


the ashes call my name

by fourleafchloe



Series: (i promise) i'll do better [5]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Peter Parker, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Precious Peter Parker, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-07-13 09:52:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16015466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourleafchloe/pseuds/fourleafchloe
Summary: The thing is, in the first video, they only hurt him once. To shut him up. And then it’s over.And Tony thinks that’s the worst thing, seeing Peter hurt like that, knowing he can’t be there to save him.And Tony is so fucking wrong.-(or, the one where the consequences finally catch up to tony, peter parker is collateral, and everything is so much deeper than it seems. separate from other fics in the series.)





	1. some prayers find an answer

**Author's Note:**

> work title from point of no return by starset  
> chapter title from holding on and letting go by ross copperman
> 
> i'm so happy to see that you've stumbled across this fic!! it's gonna get rough and painful real soon, but i hope it'll be worth the ride. 
> 
> _(what am i doing starting yet another multichap fic when i've already proven myself to be incapable of handling such things why am i like this)_

. 

 

. 

 

. 

 

So there was this little girl, right. 

And she was young—so young, five, right, she was maybe five—five years old, isn’t much of a lifespan, huh? Is it? It’s not. Five years old. Way too young to die. 

Way too  _ fucking _ young. 

Peter watched the building collapse on top of her. As though in slow motion he saw it coming down— and these are the things that ran through his mind: 

Firstly, the fact that he had about five seconds until it was too late, and he could probably reach the kid in three. And secondly—wait, no, that’s it. That’s it, because Peter didn’t need to think right now,  _ Spider-Man _ needed to  _ move. _

He stumbled out on the other side gasping and crying, tears coming unbidden, brought maybe by the heat and smoke or maybe—maybe by the fear, he didn’t know, he wasn’t sure. Felt like the whole world was cheering for him in that moment, but that didn’t matter, did it? Course not. No it didn’t. What mattered was that the kid was there in his arms, clinging to him and _ breathing. _ What mattered was that Spider-Man saved her, did his job right for fucking once, and that’s all Peter could think as the girl’s dads pulled her from Spidey’s grasp and hugged her like she meant everything. And god, did she. 

So there was this little girl. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Who else? God, to even name them. The people he’s saved. Peter doesn’t remember them all—it’s a lot of information, and supposedly your brain can only store up to, like, 500 faces at a time or something, can’t recognize any more than that at once—so some of them, their faces, they blur, yeah. He remembers the ones he didn’t, he’ll never forget those names and faces so long as he lives, but—the people he’s saved. He walks by them all as Peter Parker on the street and wonders, sometimes. Who wouldn’t still be here. 

He doesn’t even remember them all. But they’re here and he knows it. 

It makes him feel like something. 

It grounds him. It reminds him. 

 

* * *

 

May swings open the door to his room, leans in and claims she’s actually baked something edible and he should absolutely come try it this instant. 

Halfway out the window, mask on, Peter freezes. So does she. 

She bites back a sigh. He sees the way her face falls though she turns away as though to hide it. 

“Hey, no, May—I can—I can stay, I’ll try some,” he says to try and fix this. It half-works. 

The banana bread doesn’t end up being that bad, and sure she’s no Master Chef but god isn’t the smile on her face worth it? And after everything, if there’s one thing Peter Parker is good at—if there is one thing he knows he can always do, it’s finding things that are worth it. 

The little girl beneath the falling building. The smile on May’s face. The smell of slightly burnt banana bread. 

Sometimes he thinks about being crushed beneath a building and the way it’d almost killed him. The way he’d  _ known _ it was killing him, the pain and the terror. Sometimes he thinks about the people he’s failed to save, the way Liz turned away from him and toward a freshly broken life for comfort that wasn’t there. 

But sometimes he just thinks about this. 

It’s worth it. It’s worth it. It’s all so damn worth it. 

* * *

 

 

“Mr. Stark?” 

_ “Hey, kid—got a situation here, think you could swing by and help?”  _

“...what kind of situation?” 

Rhodey’s voice cuts in then instead of Tony’s, low-quality audio crackling over Peter’s phone.  _ “A Tony’s-sad-and-wants-a-fellow-genius-in-the-lab-with-him situation, get over here, kid, your old man’s lonely.”  _

It’s worth it, Peter thinks with a smile. It’s so, so worth it. 

 

* * *

 

The thing is, nothing good can last. 

 

* * *

 

“Peter?” 

May’s voice echoes. She drops her keys in the bowl on the kitchen table. That echoes, too. It feels… wrong. Something’s wrong. Maybe the echo’s just in her head but the apartment’s— 

Empty. It feels empty. Frantic, edging on desperate, she checks. Flings open the door to every room. 

_ We made a rule, _ she reminds herself absently. That every day, after school, he has to finish his homework and eat a decent meal and then wait for May to get home before he can go patrolling. 

They made a rule. 

_ Something’s wrong.  _

 

* * *

“Tony? Tony, oh, thank god, you—” 

_ “Tony? Who’s that?”  _

_ “It’s May, honey. Spiderling’s aunt, remember her?”  _

_ “Why’s she calling?”  _

_ “Gimme a sec, Pep—ah, May? Scary Ms. Parker? What’s up, what can I do for you?”  _

“Peter’s gone and he’s not answering his phone.” 

There’s a heavy, heavy, heavy pause. 

_ “Fuck,” _ Tony says eloquently.  _ “FRIDAY. Spider-Baby’s vitals and location, stat. Pep, we’ve got a spider situation—wait, what the—May, what the hell, it’s two in the morning, when did you last—?”  _

“Before he left for school. I kept waiting for him to come home, I was sure he’d show up, maybe he just, he just forgot, or—but Tony, oh god, he hasn’t done this before, hasn’t stayed out this late without telling me, not since—not since—” 

She’s hysterical now and she knows it, she’s already crying, because this  _ Peter, _ this is her  _ baby.  _

_ “Okay, May, listen up. I’m gonna need you to calm down. Parker’s fine, he has to be, if his vitals were screwy then believe me I’d know. We’ll find him, okay? We will.”  _

And May can only nod, though she knows he can’t see her—one hand pressing her cell phone against her ear, and one pressed to her mouth to stop more sobs from escaping. 

Because this is  _ Peter.  _

This is her  _ baby.  _

 

 

 

* * *

 

So they’ve got this rule, right, about the watch. This little unspoken rule that Tony made for himself, because all he wants to do is hold the ones he loves too close for them to be stolen, all he wants to do is protect them and yet he holds a heart so tight it shatters. 

Peter’s watch, a StarkWatch, nifty little thing, not even on the market yet, it’s in beta—well, it has a panic button. A distress signal. And when it’s activated—when Peter’s fingerprint (and his alone) holds the button for two seconds solid, then and  _ only _ then can Tony track his location. 

That’s his little rule. He draws the line at that kind of invasion of privacy, he knows where to stop, because as May will tell him again and again—Spider-Man, that’s his territory. But Tony knows full well that he doesn’t deserve a Peter Parker in his life. 

(And yeah, there are exceptions. Of course. Major change in vitals, that’s one of them. Loss of blood, dangerous drop in heart rate, something of the sort—if Pete’s in danger then you’d better fucking believe Tony’ll be there, everything else be damned.) 

The suit—Tony’s got access to the Baby Monitor at all times, always able to keep an eye on his kid’s superhero business. 

The watch, though. 

Peter always keeps it on. That’s another little failsafe, if it comes off Tony’s gonna fucking know about it because Peter treasures that thing and something’s gotta be wrong if it comes off— 

But that’s not the point. The point is, the watch is on the kid’s body, Peter hasn’t hit his panic button, and as far as the automated distress signal is concerned, he’s fine. 

Peter isn’t in the suit. 

And that means that Tony has no way of knowing what the hell is going on. 

He knows May’s been calling Peter’s friends. Tony tries, too. 

“Hey, Neddo, listen bud—yes I do in fact know your name, I—no, stop, this is serious. I’m serious. Peter’s aunt is hysterical. If you’re covering for him now is the time to fess up, kid.” 

And Ned can’t see him but Tony  _ visibly recoils _ at that, realizing he just called somebody else  _ kid. _ Somebody who isn’t Peter. Any other time it wouldn’t have felt so wrong, but he’s already sick to his stomach with worry, and— 

_ “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, I—I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. Is Peter okay?”  _

Not that it matters anyway. He’s coming up empty. Dread settles in the pit of his stomach, heavy as lead, because somehow Tony gets the feeling that his time is running out. 

 

* * *

 

Cut to the part where it all comes crashing down around his ears. Right there in the middle of the mystery, hours later, Peter does hit his panic button. 

Tony Stark gets the distress signal and dear god does it all go downhill from there. 

 

. 

 

. 

 

. 

 


	2. closer to the edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back again yes i know it's been five million years i'm sORRy 
> 
> updates are probably gonna be pretty sporadic tbh. i've got a novel that i need done early january, so probably not till after then. please bookmark so you'll know when i'm back with a new chapter <3 
> 
> big plans for this story, trust me!!

Tony’s got FRIDAY chasing every lead she can find. 

The team’s back together again. Ever since Thanos, ever since they fixed the timeline and saved the universe for what felt like the final time— 

_ Except it never would be, would it, no—no, you never get to be done, you’ll never hang up the suit and you know it. You know it, Tony Stark, it’s never over.  _

They’re back together again. Tony almost smiles at the memory of Bruce’s words—  _ “Like a band, like—like the Beatles?” _ Yeah, like a band, like a freaking Taylor Swift song, like a real team, they’re—they’re back together again, and maybe it’s for good this time. 

So of course Tony has no qualms calling up every damned superhero he knows and telling them to get their asses to the compound right  _ fucking now. _ Because Tony doesn’t care what the hell he has to do to get Peter back— 

He doesn’t care if it means sacrificing a bit of his pride because god  _ damn  _ it, this one’s on him and he knows it. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Tones. C’mon, man, Nat’s en route, Steve’s here and he wants to know what’s up—hell,  _ I  _ want to know what’s up and Pepper, you know Pepper, she won’t say a word—Tony. Talk to me, man.” 

The pause feels heavy as lead and drags on for endless moments. 

Then: 

“Somebody took him, Rhodey.” 

 

* * *

 

 

The first video isn’t the worst of them. 

But Tony doesn’t know that yet when he receives it. He doesn’t realize that it’ll get worse from here, that this is not what will kill him but rather it’s the beginning of the end. He doesn’t appreciate just how much is, at this moment, blissfully untouched. 

How scarred Peter Parker isn’t yet. 

Tony doesn’t appreciate any of that. No. He doesn’t have the chance. Instead, the first video is, it’s like a punch straight to the gut, okay—it knocks the wind out of him, it terrifies him out of his  _ mind. _ Here he stands helpless, so far from Peter yet witness to every detail, seeing that plain fear on Peter’s face and knowing that the kid is all alone and scared and Tony can’t do a damn thing about it. 

_ It doesn’t get worse than this, _ he thinks, left arm shaking, his mind traveling down dark tunnels he doesn’t want to entertain.  _ This is it. They’ve got my kid. It doesn’t get worse than this.  _

For one moment he wonders if they’re going to torture him. 

Something inside him breaks. Something he didn’t even know was there shatters like glass, and Tony knows then that he’ll do anything,  _ anything, _ to save his kid from that. 

He has so much work to do. 

 

* * *

 

_ “Mr. Stark? Please, I’ll be fine, I—don’t give them what they want, you can’t! I swear I’ll be fine, I’ll get out, you’ll see, I—”  _

_ A sickening crunch. A scream.  _

 

* * *

 

The thing is, in the first video, they only hurt him once. To shut him up. And then it’s over. 

And Tony thinks that’s the worst thing, seeing Peter hurt like that, knowing he can’t be there to save him. 

And Tony is so fucking wrong. 

 

* * *

 

“Peter? Peter!” 

It started like this: in the rose-gold hours of barely-there morning, Tony stumbled desperate down a back alley. The raw horror of the situation was just setting in, and he was searching, distraught, _ frantic _ —even though, deep under, he already knew what had happened. He clutched in both hands a ripped and bloodied Midtown Tech hoodie, and smashed on the ground near his feet was the remains of Peter’s watch. Iron Man had landed six minutes and thirty-seven seconds after Peter activated the watch’s panic button. 

Six minutes and thirty-seven seconds too late. 

A kidnapping could mean a lot of things, none of them good. Tony, at that point, was desperate to believe it was anything but a kidnapping. 

He knew, though. Something inside of him knew right from the beginning. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

_ What the hell.  _

_ What the  _ **_hell_ ** _ happened.  _

_ Peter. Peter. No, God no.  _

_ Why didn't he hit the button earlier—why wasn't he picking up his phone—Tony could've saved him, where was he, what happened,  _ **_what was he_ ** **_doing_ ** **_?_ **

 

 

* * *

 

 

Steve shows up and claps him on the shoulder and says he’s here to do what he can. 

There’s something so honest in those blue eyes that Tony has a hard time reconciling this man with the one who kept the secret of his parents’ deaths. Like that even matters now—Tony might’ve just lost something a hell of a lot more important than Howard ever was, something more important, even, than his mother. 

Even after all this time he’s still struggling to look at Cap the same way. He doesn’t know if he ever will again. But also, Peter. 

“I’ve got locations,” Tony says, and these are really shitty leads but they could be something and he’s not taking any chances with Peter. 

 

* * *

Peter sits curled in the corner of his cell, drugged to high heaven, but he’s aware enough to know what’s going on. 

His mind is swirling, his vision is swirling, it’s all one big swirl and his arm hurts so bad and he’s gonna throw up again at this rate. 

The only coherent though he can form is I shouldn’t have screamed. I shouldn’t have screamed. 

He feels pathetic, for screaming like that, for letting them know he was in pain, for letting  _ Mr. Stark _ know he was in pain. 

He feels weak. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Tony—what do they want from you?” 

Tony’s head is bowed. He doesn’t look up. He and the others are doing everything they can, but that is one question he hasn’t answered. 

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, finally, voice cracking. “They didn’t—they didn’t say. The first video…” 

He stares at the ground, feeling hollow. 

“All they said… they said it was a warning.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for your beautiful, beautiful comments. i love you all to death. <333


	3. you're the sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah I didn't actually mean to get this done but it took me literally one (1) day so here u go 
> 
> **WARNINGS HAVE BEEN UPDATED.**
> 
> please stay safe. i love you all. <3 
> 
> this chapter contains **threats of rape/non-con** and while this story WILL NOT go into ANY descriptive detail, **referenced sexual assault may be a component of this story in later chapters.**
> 
> in other news. i'm glad you guys like this. there are a lot of emotions here. have FUN

. 

 

. 

 

. 

 

Time felt frozen just after it happened but now it’s like it’s moving too fast, and Tony can’t keep up. He’s a whirlwind, all energy and no sleep, personally going through all the security footage that FRIDAY’s deemed suspicious, jotting down license plates and timestamps—he's gonna find him, he has to find him. 

“Mr. Stark?” 

The voice is a jolt, an electric shock. “Mr. Stark,” Peter's voice calls again. That can't be right. He's going crazy. Is he going crazy? 

“Peter.” His voice is hoarse. He's speaking to the air. The lab is empty, aside from him. 

“Peter is not here, Boss,” comes a voice from the ceiling. Gentle in a way only one person has ever been to him. 

“JARVIS?” Tony whispers, even quieter now, more broken. Because Edwin Jarvis is dead and he knows this. He's calling for his AI, the closest thing to a kid he ever had before Peter. The closest thing to a best friend he has besides Rhodey. 

“JARVIS is no longer functioning. This is FRIDAY,” the voice says, still somehow so gentle, and Tony breaks all over again because oh. That's right. The other JARVIS is dead, too. 

“Perhaps you should get some sleep. It has been 42 hours since…” 

But whatever FRIDAY says is lost on Tony. He tunes out, already sinking deep into his research again. 

He's going to find Peter. He has to find Peter. 

_ Peter, _ he thinks.  _ Pete, buddy, you gotta let go. I'll catch you.  _

He caught him that time, on a ship miles above the earth. He'll catch him again. He'll do whatever the hell it takes to find his kid and bring him home. 

 

* * *

 

 

There are many, many, many things to do. 

Even so, sitting in the lab isn't enough. It doesn't feel like it'll ever be enough. Three days after Peter's panic button goes off, Tony's terrified that he is falling short. 

The blood on the sweatshirt is Peter's. The blood in the alleyway—Peter's. It makes Tony sick. Parts of the hoodie are ripped up, seemingly from a struggle—but it's clear from the finer tears that the hoodie came off when it was cut. The blood makes it clear that Peter was being cut up right along with it. 

Nat, with the assistance of FRIDAY, scours the scene a second time, after the blood tests give them no leads. A few hours in, they hit the jackpot. 

“Clump of hair,” she says coolly, dropping said object on Tony's desk. “Not sure how we missed it the first time. Sitting behind one of the dumpsters, a few feet from where the watch was shattered. Judging by the location and all the blood, he tore it off in the struggle.” 

Tony's eyes are bright. “He tore—the little fucking genius. There's DNA on them, isn't there.” It isn't a question. Tony's on his feet in seconds, already running tests within the next minute. 

He's got hope. For the first time since he saw that cut-up hoodie, Tony has a reason to look upward. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Have you got it?” 

“Almost.” Capillary electrophoresis. Not the only DNA profiling technique out there, but it's one of the best. Tony risks a glance up at Steve. 

He looks exhausted. Every time they've got the beginnings of a possible location, he and Sam and Rhodey are on it. He's been doing a lot of running these past few hours. 

They're on better terms, after the Snap, saving the universe—after everything. 

But nothing will ever be quite the same. 

Maybe that's a good thing, Tony thinks. Steve never liked him before. Really, no one did. 

Then again, there isn't much to like. 

Never mind. Maybe it really is just the same. Maybe what it will never, ever be is  _ different.  _

 

* * *

 

 

“Gotta run these up against the DNA profiles in CODIS—Brucie, can you—?” 

“I've got it, Tony.” 

Tony doesn't say thank you. He doesn't know how. But he smiles, exhausted yet hopeful. And maybe that's enough. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Tony, I have it—we've got a match, we've got him—” 

“Lay it out.” Tony swears his heart has never beat so fast. 

“Luke Carlyle. Called the Mad Bomber. Convicted of… well, the nickname explains itself. Escaped prison a few months back, hasn't been seen since.” Bruce's hands are shaking. “He doesn't have a history of working with accomplices, though, and—this is a group of people, isn't it? Like a, a gang or something. Carlyle here, he's only one of them.” 

“I remember him,” Tony mutters, knuckles going white as he grips the desk chair. Because fuck. Oh,  _ fuck.  _ There are so many unanswered questions here but even without knowing the other kidnappers—Tony already knows Peter is in a shit ton of danger. 

“Why the hell would he…?” Rhode shakes his head. “What does he want with  _ Peter? _ ” 

“Well,” Tony says, throat tight, “Peter was the one to put Carlyle there. In prison.” Heavens above, does Tony remember that fight. 

There is a drawn-out pause. “Shit,” Rhodey says eloquently. Tony couldn't agree more. 

 

* * *

 

 

The next video arrives in Tony's email. 

He almost throws up before he opens it. Then he does open it, and he sees the thumbnail, and he collapses over the trash can and actually throws up. 

Peter is unconscious, head lolling to the side, shackled to his chair. 

And he's fucking covered in bruises. 

_ They beat him, _ Tony thinks, gasping and retching.  _ Oh god, they've been beating him.  _

He doesn't want to imagine it, but his mind conjures up the image anyway. Peter, helpless. Peter, drugged and shackled. Fists pounding into him until he cries. 

_ Oh god.  _

It takes a moment— _ several _ moments to prepare himself. What finally does it is this: whatever's happening to Peter—whatever the hell is in this video has already been done. And the longer he keeps himself from watching it, the longer he puts off the possibility of finding something that might save Peter. 

Because whatever kinds of torture he went through before and after this— 

He's probably going through it right now, too. 

Tony opens the file and hits play. 

Threats are issued. Torture methods are described. Peter flinches away at every sentence, a primal kind of terror in his eyes. 

“Aw, poor wittle spider. It hurts, doesn't it, precious? You want to go home to Daddy?”  

There is a thump. A hitched gasp. A man in a ski mask steps back and leaves Peter bleeding from the mouth. 

"Maybe you should get comfortable. It could be awhile, wittle spider." 

The helplessness is the real kicker. 

Tony wants to curl himself around this kid and save him. He's so close but so  _ far _ and even though he knows he can't reach his kid right now his heart is still sobbing out  _ save him, save him.  _ He does not know how to just watch. 

“We're going to keep him,” a deep voice off screen says, smiling, “and we're going to do whatever the hell we please. Einstein over here already got off once watching the boy writhe—” 

Peter chokes out a cry. 

“—and roughing him up is just way too much fun. So we'll hold onto him for awhile. All you get to decide is the end result. Meet our demands, and we'll use the kid up but set him free. Don't, and the last memory you'll have will be of his mangled, fucked-out corpse.” 

“No,” Peter whimpers. Tony clutches the desk, thinking for a moment that Peter is begging them not to hurt him. 

He should know better. 

“Mis’r Stark, you can't, don't, don't listen to 'em,” Peter pleads, and the mask-clad man steps forward— 

And the footage cuts out just as Tony stops breathing. 

. 

 

. 

 

. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there'll be some peter pov in the next chapter... 
> 
> along with some aunt may + way more pain. explanations will come in time. 
> 
> also, can any of you guess the group that's got Peter? there's just enough info in this chapter to figure it out, I think. 
> 
> love you all and I'll see you next time <3


	4. swear to love you all my life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY 
> 
> many of you caught the "einstein" thing in the previous chapter, but I'm pretty sure everyone jumped to the same conclusion and it's really not what you think it is 
> 
> get ready for paIN

. 

. 

 

. 

 

Rhodey's tired. 

It's been a long few days. He knows Tony is exhausted but won't let that take priority. There are few things that Tony will allow to take priority over Peter's safety. 

Rhodes was, at first, thankful Tony had found somebody else. A kid like Peter, who looked up at him with stars in his eyes, who made Tony rethink how much he was really worth. A kid who'd never turn his back on Tony the way some people had. 

A kid who gives Tony a reason. A kid who looks like the future—because Rhodey knows, each time he sees Tony's eyes land on the kid, that he looks at Peter as the future of the Avengers. 

He's still thankful for that. He is. 

But Tony's love comes at a cost. He'd throw his life away in an instant for Rhodey, for Pepper, for Happy, for those select few close to his heart, and— 

Well. Now he'd do it for Peter, too. 

Now, it seems, he  _ is _ doing it for Peter. 

But Rhodey supposes he's used to this. Tony working himself into the ground. It's not exactly out of character. 

(And it isn't exactly an overreaction, either. God knows Rhodey can't blame Tony for this. 

God knows Rhodey would do anything to see the kid brought home.) 

He's got a list of license plates and a sleek black StarkPad playing traffic cam footage. They've got a few suspicious-looking ones they're tracking, several possible locations Steve and Sam have already checked out. Nat's bouncing around New York, interrogating anybody who's got anything to do with Carlyle. 

But Rhodey's just working through the footage right now. 

It's as close to downtime as any of them have allowed themselves to get. 

He starts some coffee, throws some leftover takeout in the microwave. He taps a nervous beat against his thigh as he waits, scanning the footage on screen. 

The microwave beeps. Rhodey loses sight of the car, swears under his breath, and rewinds a few seconds. 

They'll find him. They will. Nobody's that careful. There's always a breadcrumb trail, and all they've got to do is find it. 

 

* * *

 

“Hey. Tones.” 

Rhodey slides the lab door open. His eyes flick over the space and— 

_ Fuck.  _

“Tony!” 

He nearly drops the coffee and the takeout, letting them clatter against a random workbench in his haste to get to Tony. The man is curled on the floor, head in his hands, gasping rapidly but not really breathing. The chair he'd been sitting in last Rhodey saw him is knocked over beside him. 

“Tony, Tones, hey, man—Tony, it's okay, you're okay, you're safe, okay? Tony—” 

“Oh god,” Tony gasps out. “Pete, Peter no, no, fuck—they've got him, they're gonna kill him, oh God—” 

“Tony.  _ Tony. _ You're having an anxiety attack, you need to breathe.” Rhodey braces a hand against Tony's back and grips his hand with the other. “Tony. Breathe with me, okay? Breathe with me.” 

He begins to count his breaths, waiting until Tony's own breathing has reached some semblance of normal before attempting to speak again. 

“What happened?” he murmurs. 

“The video.” Tony's squeezing his hand so tightly Rhodey wonders if he might break it. “They sent another. They—they've been beating him. They said they're going to—they—” Tony shudders, curling in on himself.  _ “Oh god.”  _

Rhodey glances at Tony, then at the screen—he sees Peter's bruised and bloodied face and that's enough to know Tony should never have watched this alone. Or at all. 

His hands fly over the keys, forwarding the email to himself and to the others. They'll look over it. There has to be something in there that'll help them find the kid. 

“They said they were going to—they're going to  _ rape him, _ Rhodey. They—they could be—right  _ now, _ oh my god—” 

Rhodey's stomach rolls. He doesn't want to imagine that. He's only met Peter a few times, but god, that kid… He clenches his jaw, tightens his hand around Tony's. He's seen some pretty shitty stuff before, but this—

He's sixteen. Peter's  _ sixteen.  _

“We'll get him back, Tony,” he says, because that's all he can really say. 

He knows he can't promise Peter will be okay when they find him, but he—he can promise this. 

They'll get him back. Because they have to. Because damn it all to hell, they won't let this one fall through the cracks. 

 

* * *

 

 

When he wakes, the first thing he feels is May’s hand sliding through his curls. 

Peter lets out a soft sigh at the feeling. It hurts, everything hurts, his whole body hurts—but this. May always does this when he’s injured, comforts him this way. 

“Morning, little spider…” 

That. 

That’s not May’s voice. 

Oh god. Peter jerks awake, lurching away from the hand in his hair but he can’t, he can’t—there are shackles binding his wrists and  _ oh god no he can’t do this.  _

It comes pouring back and Peter doesn’t want to but he  _ sobs, _ because the last thing he remembers is—is— 

Einstein. 

Peter tries again to jerk away, but the motion jostles his broken arm in just the wrong way, and  _ fuck, _ he gasps for air but his ribs must be cracked because that hurts too, and he. Can’t. Do. This. 

“No, no, no please, no,” he babbles, almost incoherent. He’s weak. His healing isn’t doing it’s thing and he doesn’t know why—the drugs, maybe, or the fact that it’s been at least three days since he’s fucking  _ eaten anything.  _

The hunger claws at him from the inside, a new kind of pain that he’s not as familiar with as he is with the bruises, the broken bones. Sooner or later they won’t even need to drug him to keep him pliant and pathetic beneath them as they—as they— 

“Mis’r St’rk,” he chokes out, almost without thinking. “Mis’r… please. Please.” 

_ Help me, _ he thinks.  _ I don’t want to do this anymore. Help me.  _

He feels the blood coating his inner thighs and forces his mind to other places. He doesn’t want to think about last night. Three days. Three days and he’s already broken to their whim. 

The man leans above him, leering. “No Mr. Stark to help you anymore, kid,” he cackles. “You’re ours for the taking, now. Shouldn’t have messed with us, but it’s too late now. Spider-Man threw the wrong gang in prison, and now he’s paying for it. Lucky we got that Carlyle on our side or we might not have pulled it off…” 

He trails off, and his hand trails down. Peter tenses. 

This is the man they kept calling Einstein. Must be a nickname, a gang name or whatever, but Peter—every time he hears that name it’s like he’s ten years old. Like he’s a little kid being shoved into the mattress all over again. 

He doesn’t resist. Even when he was still strong enough, that name was enough to leave him paralyzed. To thrust him back in time, almost. 

Skip may not be here, but these people will be the new face of his nightmares. 

 

* * *

 

 

There was a time, not too long ago— 

A time when May supposes things were better. 

She doesn’t like to think of scrawny, glasses-clad, powerless Peter as  _ better. _ She doesn’t like to imagine the child still wracked by trauma and grief, barely making it from day to day, whispering about how he feels pointless as  _ better.  _

She knows Spider-Man is good for Peter. She knows he’s saving people and that’s everything to him, and Tony is—well he isn’t perfect and she doesn’t  _ like _ him, per se, but he saved the entire universe just to bring back one boy and that. That is something special. He’s good for Peter in the same way Spider-Man is—she doesn’t like it, but she can’t change it, and maybe, perhaps, she shouldn’t. 

But May also knows that Peter misses his parents. He misses Ben even more. 

And she misses when she could be sure her baby would come home safe each night, would run away from violent crime rather than toward it. 

She looks back and thinks that maybe things were better, then. When she and Ben were happy together and Peter had both parents. When she and Ben and Peter were happy together, all three of them. 

(She knows, god she  _ knows _ things were better before Skip.) 

She can’t be certain. It’s hard to stay. One day, perhaps, she’ll ask Peter what he thinks. What his perfect life would be. 

Now, though— 

May doesn’t care about anything so long as he’s safe. 

She got the email soon after she’d called Tony in a panic.  _ He was kidnapped. Will call as soon as we have a solid lead.  _

That was days ago. Days. May’s tried to distract herself, taking as many shifts as she can at the hospital—it’s not like she’d be able to sleep anyway. 

She wants her baby brought home. She needs him brought home. He’s all she’s got left, and he— 

God, he has such a future ahead of him. He has everything ahead of him, and she’s put in so much—so much to give him that. She’s sacrificed everything and she’d do it again, and again, and again, because Peter deserves the world, he’s going to  _ change _ the world, and May doesn’t know how to live in one without him. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Money,” Tony says, voice cracking. “This is about  _ money?” _

He’s staring at the third video, at the broken body of a boy who looked like light itself only days before. 

Now he just looks hollow. 

Tony can see it in Peter’s eyes, that they’ve done things to him that he’ll never forget. He sees it in the little red marks covering Peter’s neck, the bruises around his eyes, the blood dripping from his lips. 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter gasped out in the final seconds of the video, “don’t.” 

But his eyes said  _ save me.  _

And Tony will do anything, anything to bring him back. 

They’ve named their price. They’ve finally, fucking finally named it and given him instructions and everything and two billion dollars is a hell of a lot but he’ll do it. He’ll pay it. 

(They’ve scarred a sixteen-year-old kid for life all for the sake of  _ money. _ They’ve had their way with him and beat him to a pulp and watched him bleed all for the sake of  _ money. _ ) 

 

* * *

 

 

The hours pass in a listless haze. 

Peter thinks he forgets what it’s like to not be in this much pain. It doesn’t feel like a memory, it’s like—like somebody else’s dream. A good dream, but a hopeless one. 

The days and nights bleed into one another. He starts to lose track of what’s real, because it’s always dark, and at this point his waking moments and his nightmares are too similar to tell apart. 

Eventually, once they beat him for it enough, he stops calling out for Mr. Stark. 

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NED IS COMING NEXT CHAPTER i dunno he might literally break into stark tower we'll see how it goes 
> 
> thank you all for your AMAZING feedback, your comments and kudos give me life and they also are the reason this chapter got done so fast <3333 see you soon!! i hope!!


	5. send out the signal, and I'll fly low

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE IT IS 
> 
> I cant update things ever, the end

 

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Peter grows accustomed to being used altogether too quickly. 

The beatings leave him bloody and bruised on the floor. But even worse is the glint in Einstein's eye before there are hands all over him, hands in places he doesn't want to think about, reaching for what Peter once thought was his alone. Peter shuts his eyes, but the tears slip out through the cracks anyway. There is an aching in his heart, but it disappears whenever Einstein looks his way, and Peter goes numb all over and just waits. 

For it to be over. 

To be left bruised on the floor again, no Iron Man here to save him. 

 

* * *

 

 

He thinks of Skip, in jail somewhere, and the cold and rotting heart that saw nothing wrong with raping a little kid. 

He thinks of Skip every time the gang members call the man on top of him  _ Einstein, _ flinching back at the nickname even after all these years. 

They don't say it the way Skip did, but just hearing it—just hearing it, after all this time. It's a piece of his past he's tried so hard to leave behind, and yet.  _ and yet.  _

Here he is. 

The stone floor is cold beneath him, blood drying on his skin. The nickname ringing in his ears, so much more familiar than they know. 

The universe must be laughing at him. 

 

* * *

 

 

Ned Leeds is a smart kid. Tony knows this. Also, his best friend has been kidnapped, and people will go to great lengths for the ones they love. Tony knows this, too. So Tony really should not be at all surprised when he finds that the kid has fucking  _ broken into his private lab.  _

He’s surprised anyway. 

He jolts back, spilling coffee all over his shirt. “What the—” 

Ned spins around in his chair, glancing up from the keyboard he'd been tapping away at furiously. “Mr. Stark, you're back. Okay, I have a lot of things to say to you, and I'm very angry at you for keeping May in the dark because—” 

“Who—who let you—?” 

“Oh, nobody did. I hacked Karen and she talked to FRIDAY for me. Really cool AI you have, by the way, Mr. Stark. Anyway, so, May. She is a very stressed-out lady, and she's stressing out a lot right now, and Peter being kidnapped is not helping matters and you not telling her anything is  _ also _ not helping but in addition to that I feel like you should know that Peter just told us how to find him and FRIDAY says I'm the first one to notice it which means you haven't noticed which means—” 

“Ted,” Tony wheezes, bracing himself on a table and trying not to have a heart attack, “what the fuck.” 

“It's Ned, sir,” the boy says. “Ned Leeds.” He hesitates, then adds, “I'm the one who hacked Peter's suit that one time?” 

“Oh, I remember you,” Tony says, still catching his breath. “What—what did you say about Peter.” 

He'll address the whole break-in situation later. Right now, they both have one priority. 

“The last video,” Ned says, and by the flash of emotion in his eyes Tony knows how much Ned has seen, and  _ fuck, _ why didn't he just come to them and ask to help, why'd he have to break in and watch those videos and see Peter like—like— 

Like a sixteen-year-old kid should never have to see his best friend. 

Except Tony knows why. 

Oh, he knows. 

He knows he'd have probably dismissed the kid. Any of them would have, in their desperation to find Peter—would have brushed him off as some high schooler they didn't have time for. Hell, maybe he  _ did _ try to come to them first, and some receptionist at the entrance of the compound turned him away—but whatever the case, he's here now, and Tony finds himself listening. 

Maybe there's a chance. Maybe  _ this _ is their chance, maybe Ned is really onto something. 

“Peter knows sign language,” Ned says, turning his laptop so Tony can see. “My little sister's Deaf, so we're both fluent—anyway. FRIDAY says she didn't notice ‘cause she's apparently not programmed to, and neither did you guys, but—here.” He hits play, points to the bottom corner of the screen, and it's like Tony is seeing with new eyes. 

Barely visible, as well as he can with one hand, Peter is signing against his bloody thigh. 

“Shit,” Tony says. “Shit. Play it again.” Ned does, and Tony watches, eyes going wide. 

“He said—” 

“AK6-987B.” Just seven letters and numbers, though granted there's not much else he could sign with only the one hand down at his side. “I know. It's a—” 

“License plate, yeah.” Ned flips rapidly through his notebook. “I already asked FRIDAY to check traffic cams, the vehicle was last seen at—” 

“You have locations?” 

“Three. Possibly.” Ned tears out a half-sheet of paper, and Tony takes it, hands shaking. This is it. This could be it. 

“Mr. Leeds, you're hired,” Tony says, and then he calls the suit. 

 

* * *

 

 

He lets the others know what's up, tells Pepper to call May, because damn it, Ned's got a point—he knows he's been keeping her in the dark and he needs to get his shit together and let her know what's happening. He records a message and leaves it with Pep to give to May, hoping that'll be enough. 

“Alright, Fri,” he says, flexing his wrists as she runs the standard quick diagnostic tests. Ensuring nothing will go wrong. He has to keep a clear head. He wants to go in guns blazing, but Peter— 

Peter can't afford that. 

(He can't watch Pepper fall into the fire again. He can't get this close and let that kid die, let him slip through his fingers like the ash on Titan.) 

“Wait,” Ned says. “Before—before you go.” 

Tony stares, eyebrows raised. Ned takes a deep breath. 

“Peter had a babysitter,” Ned mumbles. “When. When he was little. Who—who abused him, by—what I'm saying is, this isn't the first time he's been… assaulted. Like that. You know.” Tony's heart feels like it's stopped beating. He can't process this right now. 

“He always said he was waiting. For Iron Man to come save him. Having that plastic helmet—you saving him, at the Stark Expo, when he tried to fight off that drone—” Tony's mind is screeching to a halt, because what the  _ fuck,  _ because _ that  _ was Peter—? 

Ned meets his eyes, looking braver than most sixteen-year-olds probably could be, and Tony understands, then, how those two have stuck together so long. “He needs you,” Ned says. “He's always needed you. So just—make sure you save him, this time. He's counting on it.” 

Tony nods. He's just learned more about Peter in thirty seconds than he ever could have imagined, but this is one thing that won't change no matter what. 

“I will,” he says. “Go home, kid. You did good. You did really good, actually. We'll keep you posted, capiche?” 

Ned nods and grabs his backpack. He hesitates for a moment, but Tony gives him a pointed look—he's done his part—and then he's gone. 

And hell, the part Ned played was fucking huge. For a sixteen-year-old kid to be the answer to their prayers—it speaks to the power of friendship, if anything, as cheesy as it sounds, and god, doesn't it— 

Ned only saw because he was looking, in a way Tony somehow wasn't, because he  _ knows _ Peter, in a way Tony somehow doesn't. 

It makes him sick, knowing just how close they were to not catching Peter's clue at all. 

Tony gave the call to assemble, giving the team three minutes to suit up two and a half minutes ago. And right on cue, they come running in—Steve in full star-spangled glory, Rhodey with the faceplate down, Sam with his wings. Nat and Clint, ever in tandem. Bruce is sitting this one out, but he's here to send them off. 

“Let's bring your kid home,” Natasha says, and Tony's faceplate slams into place. 

 

* * *

 

 

Tony's gotta save his kid. 

He brought him into this mess, allowed him into this screwed-up world of superheroes and world-ending calamities and too much money to ever be good for anyone. 

This is his fault. Peter is dying alone somewhere, and it's his fault, and he's gotta  _ fix _ this. 

 

* * *

 

 

(Even though there's so much still left unanswered, churning in his gut like a deadly promise of worse to come.) 

 

* * *

 

 

_ Why didn't the kid hit his panic button?  _

 

* * *

 

 

_ How the hell did these guys manage to kidnap Spider-Man?  _

 

* * *

 

 

_ What do they know that Tony doesn't?  _

__

_.  _

 

_.  _

 

_.  _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SKDHSKSHSJS THANK YOU TO ALL THOSE WHO HAVE LEFT LOVELY COMMENTS 
> 
> I don't think you guys have any idea what's coming next and it scares even me tbh 
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts!! See you next time!!


	6. even a well-lit place (can hide salvation)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK 
> 
> next chapter will be sooner i SWEAR 
> 
> title from Starset's "It Has Begun" 
> 
> I HOPE YOU ENJOY THE CHAPTER AHH

 

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“You ready?” Steve asks on the quinjet, blue eyes trying to say so much more.

Tony laughs. Coming through the suit, there's an odd metallic quality to it. “I'm getting my kid back, Capsicle.” It isn't an answer, but Steve doesn't call him on it.

 

* * *

 

They're all a little scared.

The thing is, this is kind of… it. A last-ditch effort, if anything. Peter left a breadcrumb trail, gave them what they couldn't find alone, but will it be enough?

If it isn't—oh god. If it isn't.

Tony has the money. He has a ransom to pay, a gang of criminals to give into. But playing into their hands—it's so much left up to chance. He can't, he _can't_ let Peter's fate rest in the hands of a question, of a gamble, the chance that maybe these criminals’ word can be trusted, and Tony can buy Peter's life after all.

Because if it comes down to that, and if—

If it doesn't work.

If two fucking billion isn't enough for a sixteen-year-old's life.

Tony can't go down that road. He doesn't need Doctor Strange to know that there are too many ways this could go south. He doesn't an infinity stone to know that there's a future where Peter never comes home.

 

* * *

 

The first two places are a bust.

Empty, both of them. Abandoned. There's a lot of swearing, kicking down doors. Frustration, but beneath it, fear. A growing sense of dread as they realize they've got one shot left.

Nat, though, doesn't look worried.

Clint recalibrates his bow again as the quinjet takes off. This third location is significantly farther out, but it won't take long in the jet. Natasha looks like she's… counting her knives? Polishing them. Or something. Whatever assassins do. Hell if Tony knows.

“We'll bring him home, Tony,” she says, eyes hard.

The Iron Man suit doesn't respond. Inside it, Tony Stark closes his eyes to the world and breathes, and tries to believe her.

 

* * *

 

“This,” Clint exhales, “has _got_ to be it.”

“Don't jinx it, bird-man,” Sam grumbles, and Clint glares, affronted, and Nat rolls her eyes, and the old warehouse looms ahead of them, gloomy in the dismal fog.

“Focus, team,” Steve says, and Tony breathes in and out and has Friday scan it.

_“Multiple lifeforms detected. I cannot determine identities from this distance, but based on current evidence, there is a high probability that Peter and his captors are among them.”_

This is it. Oh _god,_ this is it.

“We can do this, Tones,” Rhodey says quietly.

“I know,” he mutters. Even though, really, neither of them do.

 

* * *

 

Tony lands hard.

The suit slams into the concrete.

 

* * *

 

"May," Ned says, bursting through the door, breathless. _"May._ They're—they're going to—they found—sign language, Peter, he, in the video—"

May stands from the couch, hands wrapped around a steaming mug. She looks more tired than Ned has ever seen her

"Finally broke through to Stark, huh?" she asks in a watery voice.

"Yes," Ned says. "May, they have—we, we found a lead. A _real_ lead. They think they can find him."

May draws in a sharp breath.

"Oh my god," she says.  

Then MJ walks in from the kitchen. Ned jumps and screams.

"Hey, nerd," she says, holding out a mug. "Want some tea?"

"MJ, we found him," Ned says between gasps. "They're gonna save him, we _did_ it."

"Congratulations. Tea," she repeats, shoving the mug into his hands.

But Ned sees what she tries to hide—the redness around her eyes, and the relief—the way the tension releases from her shoulders at his words, as though she'd been carrying the weight of the world until this moment.

 

* * *

 

Iron Man tears through walls, repulsors firing—the guns are cool and all but there's nothing like the satisfaction of a good metal punch, so he gets one in here and there.

"FRIDAY, Peter, where's Peter—"

"I cannot determine for—" FRIDAY's voice crackles, and Tony's heart jumps. They're interfering with his connection. How the _fuck_ are they doing that.

"FRIDAY!" Tony snaps.

 _"Door up ahead to your right. I can't—"_ She crackles again. _"—tell for certain—"_

Tony's already moving.

Steve and Sam are working in tandem, taking guys out back-to-back. Clint's in the rafters, taking perfect shot after perfect shot. Unconscious and maybe-possibly-dead gang members hit the floor. It takes Tony a second, but he thinks he might recognize these guys.

Once in awhile, Spidey finds something huge—there was a drug bust, once, and a whole gang webbed up and landed in prison—

 _Shit,_ Tony thinks, _shit._ He should've been looking out for him, he should've expected this, Peter pissed off an entire gang, of course—

But—

Wait.

Tony was looking out for him, and—how the hell did these guys get out? They should've been in prison for decades for drug trafficking. If they'd escaped it would've been all over the news, Tony would've _known_ about it.

He's had a growing, unidentifiable sense of dread, these past few days—he pinpoints it now for what it is.

There's something bigger going on here.

The warehouse rumbles. Tony falters. "FRIDAY, what—"

" _I don't know—"_

Something's wrong. Something is _wrong._

Tony slams through the door to his right. Peter isn't there.

 _"Down the hall, third door on the left,"_ FRIDAY says, sounding almost frantic. _"Boss, they're messing with my scanners."_

How. The. Fuck.

Tony slams through all three doors to the left, and Peter is in none of them.

"No," he mutters. "No, no, _no."_

_"Wait—Boss. Go back. I've detected what may be a hidden room. There appear to be three life-forms within, one of which is much younger and severely injured."_

_Peter._

Tony turns and races back through the hallway. "This one?"

 _"This one,"_ FRIDAY confirms. _"Back wall, a bit to the left."_

He fires a repulsor at the spot FRIDAY identifies, blasting a hole straight through the wall.

It comes crumbling down, and Tony's knees nearly give out.

Because there he is. He's bruised and bloody and crumpled on the floor, but his head lifts as Tony stumbles forward—Peter is right here, and he's _alive,_ and that's _everything._

"Peter," he mutters.

"Mr. Stark," Peter chokes out, dragging himself to his knees. "Mr. _Stark."_ He speaks Tony's name like a plea.

"Oh, kid," Tony says, racing forward— he can't get to the kid fast enough. He drops to his knees and disengages the gauntlet around one trembling hand, reaching forward.

"You came," Peter whispers, eyes red, face stained with tears, and Tony breaks.

He cups Peter's cheek. For one blissful, beautiful moment, Peter leans into the touch.

_"Boss, to your righ—"_

The moment ends. FRIDAY cuts out, along with all other noise, replaced by a roar of white.

The explosion rips Peter right out of Tony's arms. 

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all got punked

**Author's Note:**

> please leave feedback, let me know if this is something you want to see more of <3 kudos are very exciting, and comments mean a lot to me! thank you for reading!


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